


Scenic Route

by sea_level



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Introspection, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_level/pseuds/sea_level
Summary: "Driving is perhaps one of the easiest things for Allen to get used to after he starts working for Project Blue Book. In a strange way, he finds himself looking forward to the long stretches of empty road that lay between the states as he and Captain Quinn putter along on the government’s dime."Or: J. Allen Hynek ponders the change in how he feels about things (things being driving and Quinn) over time.





	Scenic Route

**Author's Note:**

> What's up everyone, I'm gonna fail my physics exam, and writing this certainly didn't help, but hey, mental block removed, now I can study.
> 
> Anyways, I know I've got some issues with characterization, and my ability to remember and accurately map out the fine details of canon is...lacking, so please consider this fic to be placed in the ideal, episodic future that will likely never occur in canon but *crosses fingers*
> 
> I was compelled to write this because I like driving through the middle of nowhere, and the show gave what must have been a series of very long commutes very little emphasis (which I am thankful for).

Driving is perhaps one of the easiest things for Allen to get used to after he starts working for Project Blue Book. In a strange way, he finds himself looking forward to the long stretches of empty road that lay between the states as he and Captain Quinn putter along on the government’s dime. The landscapes lay themselves out before him endlessly, each possessing very little to break out of their ubiquity.

In comparison, Ohio is much the same, with miles upon miles of farmland. The sheer absence of anything new to absorb should by all rights be boring, and perhaps it is so, but it matters not because it instills within him a strange sense of contentment.

He will never love these empty places as much as he loves the night sky, but there is a great deal of distance between appreciation and favoritism.

The car summits a peak during a particularly hill-ridden section of road, and hundreds of cows become visible in the fields below. There are not quite as many cows as there are stars in the sky, but the comparison breeds a sense of familiarity, which in turn generates a small sense of joy.

Allen can feel the hum of the motor through the steering wheel as the engine runs with confidence. The surety of the tires rolling over the asphalt, the ever so faint rattle of the frame—he has never specialized in engineering and has certainly never claimed to either, but the concepts are all born in physics. He knows how the engine works, all the actions and reactions (even if it is much more in theory than in practice), but it bears an everyday physicality that he is not so often granted with the subjects of his own field.

On the other hand, Captain Quinn is hardly a subject in his field, and this fact leaves him, more often than not, silently floundering as he attempts to decipher just how he feels about him. At first, Quinn’s presence is strange, though certainly not unwelcome. It stands in stark contrast to what he is used to—the large, impersonable lecture halls of Ohio State and the quick, brusque, and business-like office hours. For all that Quinn is military, there is something less professional and infinitely more personal about the silence that grows between them, a silence that is occasionally punctured by one of Quinn's attempts to make small talk or perhaps some observation he's made about their case.

The urge, then, to take one of Quinn's many openings and to speak about the stars and the sky and the objects of his love for hours on end, becomes strong, though never strong enough for him to burst the bubble of his courtesy. It functions like this, the road, the engine, the silent companionship, the endless topography, up until the point that it doesn't.

There are many constants in the universe: The speed of light in vacuum. The number of protons in a hydrogen atom (one). The fact that everything in the known universe is finite in its existence, and that everything, without exception, will one day come to an end.

The earth, the sun, all of the stars in the sky—they all have timelines. Though perhaps their scales are incomprehensible when compared to the meager years of a human life, the knowledge that nothing is etched in permanence offers Allen some degree of comfort when it is not plaguing him with the constant, inescapable fear of loss.

He would have happily gone on for years only feeling a slight detachment between Quinn and himself on these drives, but the strangeness becomes familiar, and the feeling of contented acceptance morphs into something that, horribly, begins to look an awful lot like want. It occurs to Allen that he no longer looks forward to the driving for the sake of the driving, but rather for the company and the time he gets to share with Quinn.

He begins to thrive off those little, pleased smiles that Quinn makes when Allen says something particularly witty, the way Quinn will let his shoulder knock against Allen's when they're sitting close together for no reason Allen can seem to discern. The physical contact, the silence, and Quinn’s sweet, sweet voice, they merge together and give birth to a kaleidoscope of butterflies in his stomach. Allen has to constantly police to himself, has to stop himself from leaning into Quinn’s touch, has to fight to keep his face neutral when he all too often feels the instinct to break into a smile.

He doesn’t know how aware Quinn is of this shift—if he is simply supposed to view this all as good-natured camaraderie or something else. After all, good old Captain Michael Quinn is a loyal officer of the United States Air Force and an absolutely dedicated patriot at that. He is the _image_ of an upstanding American citizen.

When making decisions, Allen knows that he’s always tended to ignore risk and focus on reward, such is the nature of his curiosity, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know when to play it safe, and in matters of the heart, he will always play it safer than most.

But for all that Allen’s acted unreceptive to Quinn’s, for lack of a better word, affections, Quinn seems to be completely undeterred. When they’re together in private after wrapping up a case, he’ll reach across Allen’s back and pull him in for some kind of strange buddy-buddy, shoulder-to-shoulder side hug, or he’ll always make sure to get something that Allen likes from the convenience store when they’re making a pit stop. When Allen does occasionally slip up and begin to ramble, Quinn will listen and actually look like he’s interested. He doesn’t interrupt him. He doesn’t ask him to stop.

Allen wants to pull him aside, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and ask him what all this means, but he can’t. He’s finally found something important and dangerous enough, that for once, he cannot make the leap.

But again, all things come to an end. All fears, all concerns, anything that can cause panic or dismay, will eventually be laid to rest in one way or another. Allen is infinitely glad that this particular issue resolved itself so well.

Quinn is tipsy.

Allen’s done that thing where he’d gone too far while trying to prove something again, and Quinn had been given a stern talking to as a result. Provided it was his fault in the first place, Allen takes Quinn out for a round of drinks as an apology.

But they both have work tomorrow, and Allen is pretty sure Quinn is well aware of this because he doesn’t protest when Allen pays and guides him to the door before they’ve even been in the pub for an hour.

What he does instead is duck into the dark alleyway, grabbing Allen by the sleeve and pulling him along with him. Quinn looks around, alert, and, when he sees that they’re completely alone and that the coast is clear, pins Allen to the wall and gives him a very heated once-over.

Before Allen can even begin to decipher what precisely Quinn’s intentions are, Quinn’s lips are on his, insistent and needy, but then Quinn pulls back as fast as he’d gone in, faster than Allen can even react to, as he takes an unsteady step backward.

“Shit,” Quinn said. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up about shoulder height as if he were assuring Allen that he wouldn’t try anything else, would never touch him again. “I misread the situation. I’m drunk. I really shouldn’t have done that. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Allen’s brain catches up and everything very suddenly clicks into place. _Oh_. “You’re not that drunk,” he says, and Quinn flinches, “and you didn’t misread the situation either.”

Quinn lowers his hands slowly, his face almost crumpling with relief. Allen can relate.

He’s spend the last few months worrying. His mounting fear building on itself to that point where it has, at times, become nearly paralyzing. For the first time in a long time, it feels like he can finally breathe.

“C’mere,” he says softly and steps forward to pull Quinn back to him. He kisses him once, gentle and full of promise. Quinn clutches onto him, and Allen can feel the shaking of his hands on his arms. “Let’s go someplace else,” he suggests.

Quinn pauses and then steals a very short kiss and smiles happily, if not a little hesitant. “Sounds like a plan, doc.”

On the drive back to Quinn’s place of residence, Allen doesn’t pay much mind to the scenery.

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally typed ALlen a whole bunch and that kinda looks like alien lmao
> 
> if you spot any grammatical/spelling errors, this is a formal request to let me know (nicely obvi) bc i'd rather fix it then leave it and i've never had a beta reader in my life (except maybe my dad and uh that wouldn't work here)


End file.
